


"cryptid hunting"

by misato



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: But it's a Joseph fic so idk what you expect, Cheating, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 22:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17610203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misato/pseuds/misato
Summary: A spade’s a spade, and a hook-up under the pretense of searching for Mothman is still a hook-up.





	"cryptid hunting"

Joe’s sick of sneaking around in the dark, but Robert’s never awake before noon.

_ Wanna go cryptid hunting?  _ Rob had texted him.  _ Pick you up in half an hour. _

And he had agreed. For the second time that week. 

A spade’s a spade, and a hook-up under the pretense of searching for Mothman is still a hook-up.

Joe showers first, washing up and bustling around in the bathroom on purpose so that Mary will wake up to hear him leave. He’ll drop a shampoo bottle in the shower just so she’ll hear the clatter, and he always leaves the light on in the kitchen before he heads out. He never says “I’m going out.” Not with words.

He wants her to know. He needs her to. He doesn’t like lying, but he also doesn’t like the difficult Sunday night conversations, the ones they have when he’s feeling guilty and she’s feeling drunk. The whispering matches they have when the kids are asleep. So he doesn’t tell her outright; he just makes it obvious.

It’s not like Mary isn’t fully aware that he and Rob are fucking, of course, regardless of the conspicuously loud sneaking. She told him she doesn’t mind. And she and Robert are friends, or something.

Showered and wearing his Sunday best, Joseph stands in the kitchen, cell phone in hand, waiting anxiously for Robert like a teenager sneaking out of their parents’ house to smoke.  _ I’m here.  _ The text message glows luminescent in the dark. His shadowed hand lingers over the light switch in the darkness of the kitchen, wondering if shedding light on the truth does anything besides make it look more ugly. Rob texts him again.  _ You still down, blondie?  _ He sighs. He wants it more than anything.

As they drive out of the cul-de-sac, Joseph watches the kitchen light getting smaller and smaller until Rob turns the corner and it disappears into the night.

They make small talk and Robert laughs at his stupid jokes and it almost feels like they aren’t about to fuck in the cramped backseat of the car.

Driving into the depths of the suburban wilderness is a nightmare and a half, and fucking in Robert’s backseat is all sweat and no romance. There are always fast food wrappers and empty packs of cigarettes tossed back there, but somehow Joe prefers it to the taste of red wine and waxy lipstick. Robert is more tempting. Dirtier. Rougher. Sweeter. Maybe it’s the thrill of rebellion. Maybe he’s in love.

No matter the motive, the animalistic intensity of Robert thrusting deep inside him, the thigh-trembling feeling of cum spilling hot into the condom, the breathy moans that gasp staccato from his own throat...he’s obsessed. Joseph had fingered himself open in the shower before, clenching and relaxing around the stretch of his fingers, telling himself he wouldn’t fall apart for Rob this time. He  _ promised  _ himself he wouldn’t. He crumbles anyway -- a pillar of salt, crying out sinful I-love-yous and things he’d rather not repeat. Now he’s stuck begging God forgiveness with drugstore lube drying on his thighs.

Joseph stares up at the wide expanse of the night sky, sleepy with post-orgasmic bliss and still longing for more than quick fucks and concealer hickeys. 

They’re dressed -- shirts buttoned high and pants zipped up, sitting on the grass now, sitting much too far away from each other for two men who had been so close minutes ago. Robert always wants to get some fresh air before they head back, to whittle and think in silence, and Joe never minds. The crickets are buzzing and he’s sure the mosquitos are eating his legs to bits, but he’d die for another moment with Rob. 

Joseph watches Robert put the knife and the hunk of wood away before searching in the pocket of his jacket for something. He quickly gropes through both pockets, along with the front pocket of his jeans, then swears and comes out with empty hands.

“Outta cigarettes again,” he says. 

His voice is a hoarse growl. It’s the first thing he’s said since he finished in Joseph’s ass, besides  _ Cum for me, pretty. _

“I’d die for a smoke right now,” he continues.

“I thought you were quitting,” Joseph says carefully.

“I’m always quitting, doll,” Robert says, smiling sadly. “I’m just not very good at it.”

Joseph takes a deep breath and exhales.

“You wanna drop by the corner store on the way back?” Robert asks after a moment.

Joseph nods. The seat belt buckles with a sound like defeat. The windows are still fogged up with the remnants of sex in the air.

At the counter, Robert buys cigarettes and Joseph buys a pack of Reese’s cups and they walk back to the car. 

“I keep giving in,” Rob says, lighting up a cig and taking a blissful drag.

He blows it out the window, but the wind carries it back into his face. He doesn’t even cough.

“We all have our vices,” Joseph says, waving a piece of candy.

“Ah, Joe,” Robert sighs around the smoke. “You know that’s not your sin of choice.”

“Don’t,” Joseph says softly.

“Can’t live in a fantasy forever,” Robert says. “Someday your worlds are gonna collide, and trust me, sweetheart, it’ll be messy.”

“Rob, you know I can’t tell the kids that we...y’know.”

“Tell ‘em what?” Robert chuckles. “That we’re fucking? Don’t tell ‘em that, Joe. It’s not about me. You need to set things straight with Mary. You two’ve wanted a divorce for years.”

The car rumbles to a stop.

“This is my stop,” Joseph says quietly.

Robert kisses him, his mouth warm with smoke. His hand moves to cup Joseph’s cheek, warm and careful, as if he might break if he kisses him too hard.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not my business. See ya later, blondie.”

“Good night,” Joseph says.

When he steps inside, the kitchen light is off. He goes to bed smelling like cigarettes, and Mary, though she’s only pretending to be asleep, says nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i rarely write angst, joseph i'm so sorry honey you don't deserve this i'll make it up to you


End file.
